Bleeding
by HedwigsHaven
Summary: Post DH. Snape was not forgotten on the dusty floor of the Shreaking Shack. A story of healing. The pain of war is never forgotten. EwE,SS/HG,
1. Bleeding

Bleeding

Hermione watched in silent horror as long, pale fingers grappled with the serpent's impossible girth. These were hands made for the creation of flawless potions, the brilliant manipulation of wand and spell; these were the hands of a Master. Her mind refused the image her eyes brought it. How could Severus Snape be going to his knees in this vile shack? Was this not the wizard who bested the great Albus Dumbledore? If he was to fall, it should be at wand point in duel, not this barbaric display of physical violence.

Time slowed as Voldemort and the snake left the black-clad Headmaster on his knees, growing more ashen by the minute. Ron and Harry faded away as her vision tunneled and her ears rang. He was going to die. This was not right; there was no justice in this death. He should stand trial, account for the life he stole from Dumbledore.

Harry moved around the crate concealing them and she found herself following without thought. Ron's shoulder brushed against hers and she reached out suddenly and clutched his sleeve as Snape swayed and crashed to the floor. Harry drew closer to Snape as he _trembled_ in the steadily growing pool of his own blood. Hermione felt her stomach lurch.

Suddenly Snape reached out, grabbing Harry by the collar and dragging the unlikely savior of the world to the floor with him. Blood bubbled up his throat and leaked from the corners of his mouth; it ran in tear-like tracks from his eyes and pooled in his ears. She stood frozen with horror. Only when the blue wisps began to flow with the rivers of red was she able to step into action.

"_Take...it...take...it,_" Snape whispered.

Hermione conjured a flask and pressed it to Harry's icy palm. How they managed to collect all of it would forever be lost to her when she tried to recall the moment. When the memories stopped flowing, Snape stopped trembling. She nearly touched him before he drew a shuddering, wet breath.

"_Look...at...me_," he gasped, looking into Harry's eyes, who could do nothing but comply.

She watched as his grip loosened from the fabric of Harry's clothes and finally released completely. Harry would later describe watching the light fade from his eyes.

"We have to go."

Ron's voice startled her. Harry got to his feet with the bloody vial clasped tightly in his shaking hands. The war gave no pause for death and the lot of them had to move on.

Harry took the cup and ran with Ron close on his heals. Hermione, still numb with shock, moved to follow them until her trainer squelched in the clotting blood. They were well ahead of her now, and failed to notice as she stopped, physically unable to move forward. The biting tang of blood flooded her senses and made the room spin. Her knees went to jelly. Slowly she sank to the filthy ground beside Snape. His blood was still warm as it soaked through her jeans.

Had he ever thought a snake bite would be the death of him, the Head of Slytherin? The irony was so crass. He had died slowly in agony. Why had he not asked for help when he saw them? He only wanted Harry to see…something…from his memory. The act was desperate; how much effort must it have taken to produce them in such a manner? Why would this man request that Harry Potter look at him with his dying breath? There was no curse, no snide or cutting remark, there was no malice toward Harry at all. He was loyal to Voldemort; if he had enough strength to loose those memories then surely he had enough to strike out at Harry. None of this added up. She felt a renewed burst of anger for Dumbledore. He was a brilliant wizard, but he left them in a state of chaos with no direction, only this eternal second and third guessing.

Snape was an enigma, the one part of the puzzle that was always in flux. She found herself gently running her hand up his back. He was still warm. He drew breath only moments before and now he lay here, dead. Her fingers stilled just below the collar of his robes- just below the jagged and weeping wound.

Weeping?

Could she still see the faintest of pulsing in that trickle of blood? She shifted closer to get a proper look and silence the foolish hope stirring within her. She should move on with Ron who was no doubt wondering where the hell she was now, but Merlin if the wound was not still pulsing ever so faintly. He was alive in the loosest sense of the word. Adrenalin spiked across her belly as she moved closer.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." she whispered as she rolled him onto his back. Something had to be done, but what?

"Hermione you are an idiot, a bloody idiot," she lamented, shaking her head as she summoned his healing potions and bandaging. She could not feel a pulse; perhaps her eyes had tricked her. She had to be sure though, so she pressed her ear to his chest and held her breath.

His heart gave a stuttered lub-dub and she flew into action. Her fingers laced and pressed just above the base of his sternum. Who would have thought her parents insistence that she learn muggle CPR might save a wizard of all things? His heart was obviously giving a small effort, but she knew it was not enough to move any of the blood still in his arteries to his brain.

"OUCH!" Hermione cried in frustration as Snape's potion kit smacked into the back of her head.

It clattered to the floorboards behind her along with a ridiculous amount of bandaging supplies. She continued her cycle of compressions and leaned back, shoulders screaming from the physical effort, and grabbed for the first vial that looked like a blood replenisher.

"How do I get this down your throat?" she said as she tipped his head forward slightly and brought the potion to his lips. There was so much blood, so much! She figured herself a bit round the bend after all the recent trauma and death, which could be the only explanation for her illogical reasons to save this man who until only a few minutes ago she believed to be a cold-blooded turncoat, a murderer.

When the last drop left the bottle she tossed it aside and resumed chest compressions. After the tenth compression, blood began to pulse from his neck in earnest. She stopped and fumbled through the bandaging, leaving bloody trails over the crisp, clean linens that she tossed aside. Finding one that looked to be the right size, she whispered "_Occludis_" and watched the wax-like film spread from her wand tip over the cloth. When she was satisfied the bandage would not breathe, she pressed it over the angry, ripped flesh of his neck, adhering it to the healthy skin around the wound.

"Please work, please work. Come on," Hermione cried as she pressed rhythmically over his heart.

She could not be sure, but it looked as though some color was visible in his cheeks. When her count hit thirty, she let off and tipped his head back again, sending a prayer that she could do this right, and leaned over the mouth that had done nothing but utter the harshest of criticisms in a sinfully beautiful baritone. She pinched his nose, drew a deep breath, and sealed her lips over his. She watched his chest as she exhaled, willing life into his body, and felt a hot tear slide down her cheek as his chest rose. The breath was in! Adrenalin rushed anew as hope revived itself. She broke contact with him after another successful breath and grabbed another blood-replenisher.

"Come on, come back, come back..."

Her back and shoulders screamed in protest as she worked round after round, cycle after cycle trying to save him. Driven by a force she could not name, could not control, she would not relent. The bloody pool was sticky by now, the coagulant finally doing its job despite the venom from the damned snake...

"The venom," Hermione cried.

She abruptly stopped and looked for anything that would work as anti-venom. She read about the uses of some potions for this, but she did not dare hazard a guess, not after he had been down so long; after so much blood had left him that muggles would have never tried to revive him.

She dug through his bag, willing the deep leather casings to give up their secrets. She was so tired, so very tired and coming across nothing that would help. She cried out in frustration and wiped a bloody hand across her face. A single beazor rolled from the pouch. She snatched it up and shoved it in Snape's mouth, hoping this last effort would work. She waited for what seemed an age, watching for any sign of life.

She had failed.

It really shouldn't have surprised her, not after the man had shed nearly every drop of his blood. All she could do now was hope she had not contributed to his pain.

"HERMIONE! HERMIONE!"

She almost fainted from fright as Ron's voice echoed off the dusty walls of the shack. He would be angry with her for frightening him, as he well should be. If he had left her side without warning during this battle she would have killed him herself. His shock of red hair came around the corner before she could call to him, and as his eyes found her he froze in place. She was soaked with sweat and liberally covered in Snape's blood, her hair disheveled and bright tear tracks cut through the grime on her cheeks.

"Love, what are you doing?" he asked in the kindest voice Hermione had ever heard him use. He was at her side in a heartbeat, pulling her close.

"He was already gone Hermione, it was far too late for us to help him." She nodded as she buried her head in his chest, breathing in his scent. They were still for a moment, until the sound of something hitting the ground jerked them apart. Ron almost knocked Hermione over as he drew his wand, but she already identified the source. Her pathetic attempt to feed Snape the beazor had failed so completely that the damned thing fell from his still-bleeding mouth. A violent crash nearby startled her to her feet.

"Please, Ron, go help Harry! I will be there in a moment, but I have to hide his body. Please don't look at me like that! I can't stand for them to get him. Please, Ron go!"

Ron gave her a look that clearly communicated what he felt about leaving her, but another crash put his feet into motion as he shouted for her to be careful. He was gone in an instant leaving Hermione with the body. She closed her eyes to collect herself before reaching down to close his eyes the fraction they were open. Just as her fingers brushed against the lids, Snape drew in a ragged, agonal breath and Hermione stumbled backwards in shock.

She got to her knees and crawled to his side, disbelieving as he drew yet another breath. Tears began to slide from the corners of his eyes into his matted hairline and his face contorted with pain. She startled as his hand reached feebly into the air, reaching for something she could not see.

"L...Lily...s...so...s...sorry..." he sobbed, _sobbed _she thought to herself as she caught his hand. His eyes shot open and pierced her with a look of such longing it took her breath away. Understanding slammed into her with blinding force; the shouted lessons to Harry the night Dumbledore died, the memories, "_look at me…_" with your mother's eyes…

He was hyperventilating, drawing quick, shallow breaths that gurgled and rattled deep in his chest. She immediately shifted to sit by his shoulders, lifting him up and propping him over her thigh so that his head lay in the crook of her arm. Her stomach turned as blood that had soaked his hair ran down and dripped from her elbow. He was trembling so violently that the sound of his boots scraping across the floorboards overpowered his labored breathing. What had she done? He had died this death once. She could not bear the thought of causing him to suffer it again for naught.

"Hold on professor, hold on. Try and slow your breathing down. Breathe with me, breathe with me," she instructed in as calm a voice as she could muster. She began to breathe loud and deep, willing him to calm down and follow her lead. She knew he must be in absolute agony from his wounds and fervently wished she could ease his pain, though she dared not give him anything at this volatile point in his struggle for life. This, and a warming charm were all she could do for him.

"L...Lily?" he breathed, reaching for her arm and clutching her wrist in his icy hand. He was calling for Harry's mother. He was calling for a woman who married the primary tormenter in his young life, the man who almost killed him as a boy.

The maddening injustice of it all closed her chest in a vice, she found herself rocking ever-so-slightly and smoothing his matted hair along his hairline. Never, in any lifetime, in any number of years would she have believed she would ever be clinging to Snape, rocking him while trying to soothe away the pain he felt. If he needed her to be Lily Evans right now, she would not speak, she would not rob him of his comfort.

He could not stay here much longer, it was a miracle that he was alive even now and there was no guarantee that he would stay in his body. Hermione drew her wand and summoned her patronous, whispering instructions to find Madam Pomfery. The silvery otter wriggled and sped away through the walls of the shack. A groan of pain drew her attention back to the sharp face of the professor, who was now staring at her with mixed apprehension and confusion.

"G-Grang..." he rasped with each exhalation. Hermione nodded, wanting to spare him the effort. "Yes, Granger, Sir. I just sent for Madam Pomfery. I am sorry you are in pain, I am afraid to give you anything for it just now, you have lost an amazing amount of blood."

Pain clouded his eyes as he clutched her wrist harder. "Potter?" he rasped. She nodded and answered gently, "He has the memories; he got them. Ron is with him now, helping him. Please save your strength, Poppy should be here very, very soon."

He was going to answer, but his body shuddered and spasmed, tearing a cry from his throat as raw and wounded as an animal. She abandoned his hair and placed her free hand over his heart, applying the most gentle and yet detectable pressure there, grounding him. She continued to breathe deeply and audibly as a pacer for him. She doubted he even realized it, but he turned his face toward her stomach and clung now to the fabric of her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I know it hurts, I'm so sorry," she whispered.

His trembling nearly toppled her over as exhaustion set deep in her bones. She sobbed in relief when Madam Pomfery appeared, confused and worried. She did not say a word as she took in the scene of Hermione Granger and Severus Snape in a pool of blood. Hermione quickly informed the mediwitch of his situation and her treatments as she allowed the weight of him to be levitated off of her. She rose shakily to her feet as Snape was lowered onto the stretcher, still clutching her sleeve. As gently as she could, she prized his fingers away from her clothes but held fast to his pale hand. She leaned over his shaking form and whispered to him, laying his hand over his stomach, "I do not know the details, professor Snape, but I do know you are not what you seem. Stay with us, professor, stay with us," and with that, she turned away from him and entered the tunnel, ready to rejoin the fray.

_Author's notes: Quotes in italics spoken by Snape are the work of JK Rowling. No infringement is intended, no money is being made. _


	2. Tilt

It was cold; cold and dark and he _hurt_.

Where had Lily gone?

He lifted a trembling hand to his face, unable to see anything. The feeling of his freezing fingers sliding over his damp eyes seemed to ground him. He lay still on his back, carefully breathing in and out, in and out...

"Severus," whispered a distant voice.

He started at the sound.

"Severus," the voice seemed closer this time.

He reached for his wand, only to discover he was naked and quite unarmed. Panic snaked around his gut. Where was Lily?

He jumped when a warm, masculine hand touched his shoulder gently.

"_Lumos,"_ the voice whispered, and light erupted around him. He shielded his eyes and opened them, blinking rapidly as his pupils adjusted to the brightness. The hand came down again, smoothing his damp, lank hair away from his eyes.

"You have done well, my dear boy, better than anyone should have asked."

Severus' heart clenched as a warm cloth was draped over him.

"Albus?" he gasped.

The light seemed to dim slightly and in its place were two crystal-blue, twinkling eyes so familiar they stole his breath. He struggled as he sat up, pulling the warmth of the cloak with him. Albus sat back on his heels, wand in hand looking alive and well; no blackness crept up his arm now. Snape looked down and realized the warm cloth was in fact Albus' own cloak.

"P-Potter, what of Potter," Severus inquired as he stared unabashedly at Albus, shivering with more than cold and pain. Albus exhaled audibly and sat fully on the ground, his face lined with sadness.

"I do not know yet, Severus. I expect I shall see him soon."

They were knee-to-knee; Albus's sharp posture providing a visual counter to Snape, whose back was resting heavily on the boards behind him. Bone-deep weariness leached him of strength and he moved to rest his head against the wall. The movement disturbed the temporarily-forgotten bite and white-hot pain licked across his neck, shooting down through his chest. Air whistled through his teeth as he sucked in a breath and clapped a hand over the ripped flesh. Dumbledore watched him sadly and he reached out to comfort the wounded man, resting his warm fingers over the icy ones that covered the wound.

"What is this, Albus? Has death claimed me or has it not?" Snape hissed through clenched teeth; cold beads of sweat began to form on his brow. Albus leaned forward and passed his hand gently over Snape's forehead, pushing the stray hairs away from his eyes.

"You are not dead Severus, not yet. It would seem that a certain student of yours could not sit by as you were in danger. I must admit my surprise at her abilities, muggles do come up with ingenious solutions to things like this where we rely so heavily on our magic."

Snape snorted softly at Albus's near whimsical tone and winced against a stab of pain. Albus tucked his cloak around the trembling man and continued to speak far more seriously.

"This is a cross-road if you will Severus; this is where you get your choice in the matter. You have been given another chance at life should you wish to take it. I am aware of your...acceptance to the high probability of your death at the close of this war, but I do urge you to take a moment and consider what life may still hold for you before you decide."

Snape sighed and a small smile graced his lips.

"Albus I do not know what delusion you are under if you believe I would willingly bypass the chance to see her again, to be near her and speak with her. She was with me at the end, Albus, and I can not walk away from her again. No, I am tired and I have nothing waiting for me with the living," he said, feeling a warmth in his chest as he remembered the feel of Lily holding him to her- she had felt so real to him then.

When he finally looked at Albus again, he could not understand the shine in the old man's eyes. In a characteristic and life long habit, he raised an eyebrow in question.

"Lily was not with you my boy, I am sorry. Do you not remember your last conversation? Lily is dead, Severus, and she spends her afterlife with her husband. She is no more yours in the hereafter than in life, much as it pains me to tell you such harsh realities when you are already down," Albus slid his hand to Snape's bicep, keeping a reassuring pressure there as Severus physically recoiled from his words. Snape closed his eyes and thought back to the warm body he had curled into as life and awareness and pain ripped through him after he was sure he had died. She had smoothed his hair away from his face, just as Lily once did. He spoke her name aloud...and...and Granger had answered him. The warmth in his chest was violently replaced with cold and anguish. He was alone, truly alone either way. Albus had surely seen Lily since his death, and she was still with Potter Senior and not likely to leave him - ever.

He felt as though he were falling; he felt as he did when he learned of her death and the pain of it was worse than anything his body could conjure against him. He wrapped his free arm around himself, still holding the painful wound, as a single tear slid down his cheek. He turned away from Dumbledore, ignoring the ripping sensation that shot through his neck and into his chest again.

"I am sorry Severus, your life has not been a fair one by any means. Everyone, myself included, underestimated you time and time again. I should have done so many things different during your years at Hogwarts as a student. I should have looked closer instead of being a fool and watching only the brightest of stars. You, loyal to a fault, showed me in my eleventh hour that some heroes wear black. Not many are gifted with the ability to love as you, Severus, and it would please me very much if you would allow yourself another chance at it. Your debt is more than paid."

Severus closed his eyes against the reality he now faced. He could walk away from life. He could succumb to his wounds and enjoy and eternity of...of what exactly? Watching Lily from afar, damned to always want what was in front of him yet impossible to obtain? He had expected hell when his last breath was given, but he had never considered the possibility it would be this torture, this never-ending heartache. No, he could not bear it. Without turning to face him, Severus spoke.

"Leave me Albus," he whispered into the growing darkness. Albus's grip slackened and his sad voice seemed to fade into blackness. Cold seeped into every pulsing artery in Severus' body and the pain that had dulled since Granger had supported him came ripping back with a force that seized the breath in his lungs. His eyes shut tight against the pain, and he missed the tear that slid heavily down Dumbledore's cheek.

"Forgive an old fool, my friend," Albus' whisper was but a soft breath against the top of Snape's head and he could not be sure it had been real at all. A tangle of emotion griped his chest at the words, but was quickly lost in the new and shocking noise of what sounded to be many agitated Wizards. There was screaming- terrible, sick sounds of pain and agony that made his stomach roll. It sounded like Hagrid not far off.

He struggled to open his eyes, which were sticky and felt full of grit. When his vision finally returned it was blurred terribly and hazed in red. Thick clouds of dust swirled around him, broken by beams of sunlight filtering in through gaping holes that dotted the Shreaking Shack. The structure had obviously been hit in the last few minutes; he startled as a board snapped away from the remnants of its frame and clattered down onto its former neighbors.

His mind was slow to work, interpreting the messages his eyes were sending at a painfully inadequate pace. Was that an arm protruding from the bottom of the pile? He squinted and, having realized that the object in question was decidedly a human hand, struggled to sit up. An eerie silence had fallen in the distance. He had not registered just how loud the cacophony of explosions, spells and shouts until they fell silent. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise before he heard the slow, menacing voice hissing in the distance. Voldemort was speaking and Snape could almost _feel _his exuberance. Minerva _screamed_ Potter's name. The boy had done it then...Lily's son had laid his life down just as Albus had raised him to do. Darkness crept up on him again, pulling him from consciousness as he wondered whose wand would best Voldemort's in the end.

s.S.s.S.s.S.s.S.s.S.s.S.s

She watched as Harry plodded off toward Gryffindor's tower, her hands still shaking with adrenalin and intense grief. Harry was alive, Harry was alive and Ron was alive and she was alive and she could not think on Fred's empty eyes or Remus's body cooling next to his wife's. As Harry rounded the corner she leaned heavily against the wall. Ron rested his hand on her shoulder and the weight of it was warm and comforting and they were alive and Neville had been carrying Collin, soaked in blood with his face contorted in a last grimace of pain and her knees were giving out and she was sinking to the floor. Ron was speaking to her softly, going to the ground along side her. His words were lost in the intense ringing of her ears, but the tone was soothing and worried all at once and she raised her hands up, intending to scrub at her eyes, and her sleeves were stiff and crimson red and reeked of copper and she vomited, barely missing Ron's lap. The intensity of her sickness brought her to all fours, the force so strong that stars erupted in her vision. Snape's blood covered her jumper and her trainers, seeping into the eyelets that threaded the laces.

Someone was pressing a cool flannel to the back of her neck and pulling her hair away from her face. Her stomach was empty, there was nothing at all left to give and yet the retching did not cease. She felt Ron's hands grasp her shoulders as he rolled her into his lap, supporting her head in the crook of his arm. Someone pressed a vial to her lips and she drank as quickly as she could, desperate to get the potion down before her stomach heaved again. Ron smoothed her hair away from her face, just as she had soothed Professor Snape, and she suddenly had to know. She had to get away from the dead, she had to focus on one person and there was no way to do that here. She wiped her face and shrugged out of Ron's grip.

"I have to go, I have to go!" she yelled frantically. The wards were down and she could hear Ron call her name as she spun on her heel, thinking only of Saint Mungo's. The crack of her Apperation overpowered Ron's shout, and she was being pressed in on all sides until she could stand it no more.

Her feet hit the ground hard and she listed to the side as she caught her balance. The old store with its dummy in the window stood before her as unremarkable as the day she first set eyes on it. She rushed to the window and informed the dummy that she needed to see a patient. When the dummy nodded, she entered into the main lobby.

She had expected the magical hospital to be swarming with activity and was taken aback at its relatively empty halls. Perhaps there had not been time yet for the wounded to be transported. She shook her head and stumbled to the front desk. The witch gawked at Hermione's robes and disheveled appearance and asked if the blood still clinging to her sleeves belonged to her.

Hermione ignored the woman's inquiry and asked in a rush where she could find Headmaster Snape, please.

"The 'Edmaster of 'Ogwarts, dearie?" The plump woman asked, shaking her head, "The 'ole place would be swarmin' with the Ministry what was 'e 'ere! No dearie, we 'aven't got 'im as a patient, but maybe you want to be seein' a 'Ealer yerself then?"

Hermione's guts clenched.

He never made it to the hospital; he is still in the shack!

She took a deep breath to calm herself. It was possible he was here and it was being kept quiet- yes that would be it. The Ministry would want time to sort out all of the information and it would be quite unsafe to make public that Snape was here when both sides would now think him a traitor.

Hermione realized the woman was still speaking, and without waiting for the witch to pause, thanked her and turned to leave. Best to go to the shack just to be sure he had gotten out. There was no sense in worrying about matters when she could easily go and see for herself that he was safe. When she was again on the street in front of the storefront, she thought hard of the Whomping Willow and turned on her heel.

_s.S.s.S.s.S.s.S.s.S.s.S.s_

When he opened his eyes again, night had fallen. He could hear wind rustling through the forest trees and the faint, melodic chirp of crickets. His mind wandered to the owner of the arm he had seen earlier in the day. Surely if it were one of the Golden Trio he would have been found by now. He thought it most unlikely that anyone would allow the body of any of their number to decompose in such an undignified manner.

As consciousness crept back his body began to shout its protests. Pain returned with a blinding force and the body near him was forgotten as he curled in on himself. Why had he allowed Albus to leave him here, simply to wait for death again? There would be no reason for Granger to think of him in the near future, what with her certain grief over Potter. Perhaps Granger herself was felled this night, taking the knowledge of his survival to the grave. The irony of it all was too much and he puffed out a breath that could have been a laugh. The muscles between his ribs seized in protest and he heard himself cry out softly into the night. Where was Lily now, he wondered. Could she see him? Did she know that he had dedicated his entire adult life to protecting her son when he could not protect her? Had she watched him as a young man, weeping out his soul in Dumbledore's office after she had died?

"Oh go on you great infant! Go on and cry Snivillus, cry about your pathetic life dedicated to wasted love. She is mine, you great greasy git! What in Merlin's name would make you think she could ever love a freak like you?" James Potter's voice erupted in his head. Even as the clinical side of him recognized it for the hallucination it was, the words struck him like a blow. His cheek pressed against his cloak and he sobbed into the thick cloth.

A sudden crack nearby jerked him out of his growing agony with a bolt of adrenalin. His fingers fumbled for his wand and he struggled to uncurl himself. The pain of movement proved to be too much even for his heightened state and the best he could manage was to stay where he was- laid on his side with his wand trained at the entrance to the room. He could hear footfalls on the stairs leading to him and his wand trembled with effort. His strength was rapidly depleting but he refused to lie as a lamb for the slaughter.

The person entered the room in a clatter, not paying attention to the mess of boards and debris now scattered about the floor.

"Piss it!" cried a decidedly female voice.

Snape adjusted his sweat-slicked hold on his wand and licked his cracked lips, suddenly realizing that his entire mouth tasted of blood. He drew in as deep a breath possible and just as he was going to attempt speech, the woman called out.

"Headmaster Snape? _Lumos_," and light erupted into the room.

He shielded his eyes from the sudden brightness with a trembling, bloodied hand and heard her gasp. As suddenly as his hand had moved to shield his tender eyes his wand trained on the witch and he rasped, "Wh...who...wh..."

The trembling in his arm rapidly became uncontrollable as he lost the ability to support it any longer. The wood clattered to the ground as he watched the woman close in on him though still-hazy vision. She was clearly not an immediate threat and, even if she had been there was pathetically little he could do about it. His chest heaved with effort as he sought to regain his breath.

"Oh my God, Headmaster Snape can you hear me, Headmaster?"

_How odd_- Severus thought- _that Granger would address me so_, and the room spun out of focus as the earth tipped on its side, unceremoniously dumping him into the lap of unconsciousness yet again.


	3. Silence for the Soul

III

"We still don't know if he will survive, Kingsley. It's a damn miracle he is alive right now. Has Harry Potter truly given a sworn statement of his innocence then?"

"He has. Will she not take her leave of him? It is curious that she would still remain here in such a state. I do not remember any sort of affinity between the two and I would have thought it impossible she would not be with Potter and Weasley so soon after…all that has transpired."

"I agree Kingsley, I agree. She will not speak, nor will she be moved and what with the state she arrived in with Snape and the body of Poppy Pomfery, we feel now is not the time to push visiting restrictions."

Kingsley cocked an eyebrow at the Healer. Saint Mungo's was not known for its leniency on policy or the care of those who suffered with the wounded. The tall Healer laughed and swept his dark hair from his eyes, leaning closer to Kingsley and lowering his voice.

"Truth be known, it seems Mr. Potter put an owl up the backside of administration and Miss Granger is not to be bothered."

Kingsley's smile did not reach his eyes. He focused his attention on the occupants of the room. Snape looked worse than death as the small baubles of light played softly over his bed; the formerly pristine linens now liberally streaked with rust-colored smudges. Snape was nude under the bedclothes, which were folded down just under his shoulders. Deep purple and green bruising ran the entire length of his neck and down across one shoulder, disappearing under the cloth. Kingsley had known Snape a long time and watched him through many injuries, but this…this far surpassed anything he had seen. He had little faith the man would wake again and could not quite decide if that were a sad thing or not.

Miss Granger was asleep in a deep armchair pulled flush against the bed. Her arm lay on the mattress parallel to Snape and her forehead rested atop it, her mess of hair spilling over to obscure any view he might get of her face. She looked terrible from where he stood. The battle at Hogwarts had been less than twenty-four hours ago and it was obvious she had not tended to herself since arriving here. The story was hazy at best. She was in hysterics when she Apperated to the lobby. No one knew exactly how Snape survived the entire day alone and with no medical attention in the remnants of the Shreaking Shack. Madame Pomfery had apparently come to his aid, only to be killed in the structural collapse.

He was tired. He could not think on the losses any longer. He turned away from the grisly scene before him and nodded at the Auror posted at the entrance.

s.S.s.S.s.S.s.S.s.S.s

Harry paced the familiar dormitory as he wrestled with his emotions. His head pounded and there was a marked limp to his gait, though he paid it no mind. Intense sadness, anger, guilt and emptiness warred within his chest. Early-morning sunlight spilled across the room as normal as ever. Ron was asleep, just as he would be at this hour on any other morning. Only this was not any other morning, and Ron was not in his own bed but Harry's, still wearing the filthy clothes he fought so valiantly in.

The same clothes he wore when his brother was struck down before him.

Harry tore his eyes away from Ron, who had spent the night curled near him, just as they had in the forest. The forest where Snape had saved them all…again. Harry wrapped his arms around his stomach and fought the wave of nausea washing over him.

Snape was too much to consider. The weight of guilt and anger that came with Snape had nearly taken Harry to his knees since he was allowed to think on it; there was precious little about his life he could think of that did not end up with Snape, either. Like his mother...

The idea of his parents, so complicatedly intertwined with Snape, pushed him to far and he wretched where he stood.

"Easy there, mate," Ron whispered from the bed as he flicked his wand at the sick in front of Harry.

Harry gave a slight nod as he raked his fingers through his hair, closing his eyes against the spinning room.

Ron sat up, scrubbing his face in his hands. For a moment he was unable to place the uncomfortable feeling that something was terribly, irreparably wrong. He rose and went to Harry's side, grasping one of his friend's arms before sliding his hand around Harry's back to grasp the other, his arm resting against Harry's shoulders. He felt Harry take a deep breath and hold it briefly before releasing it, allowing his hands to fall away from his hair to his lap. Still the odd feeling gripped him, nearly turning his stomach with dread. It dawned on him like a dissolusionment charm, the ice of it starting at the top of his head before quickly enveloping him. Fred was gone, murdered before his eyes just hours ago.

Harry felt Ron's grip tighten before he moved, clutching Harry from behind. He heard the sound, low and deep and anguished, rise from deep within Ron as his friend's fingers clenched the dark fabric of his jumper. A pang of guilt stabbed through him, how could he have forgotten his best mate's incredible loss? He turned awkwardly in Ron's grasp and wrapped his arms around the taller bloke's waist, pulling him in tightly. Ron all but dissolved against him, forcing Harry to bare most of his weight as the red head came down to rest on his shoulder. Ron was shaking with grief as Harry held him close, unsure of what to do or say next, selfishly relieved that Ron was still her, still beside him against the odds.

He lost all sense of time as they stood there, slumped against one another in tired grief. Ron's tears quieted though they did not release one another. Ron's stomach gave a mighty growl. They did not laugh, though they released one another with a slight smile and pat on the back.

"We could use a wash," Harry whispered, his voice raw from the prior day's shouting.

Ron huffed his agreement as he looked Harry over, flinching at the charred hole in Harry's shirt where the Killing Curse landed. He really had almost lost Harry. The thought made him place a freckled hand over the burned material.

Harry looked up, confused, before Ron spoke.

"Glad your here, Mate. That was too bloody close. Never again, alright?"

Harry grasped the back of Ron's arm and squeezed, nodding. Ron's hand dropped away and he turned to gather his things for the loo.

s.S.s.S.s.S.s.S.s.S.s

His room was quiet. The sort of unnerving quiet that is somehow louder than sound…library quiet; forced, hushed, reverent, maddening quiet that screamed and echoed off every wall that a man may die at any moment.

Hermione wanted to scream.

His breathing came erratically- the breathing of a man in pain. She pulled her hair from her face, grimacing as strands stuck to dried grime. His room smelled of cleaning spells and ancient stones. His bed lay in dim artificial light, throwing his jet-black hair in stark relief against the almost-grey hue of skin. Strands of it lay in dark, web-like patterns across his drenched forehead. Deep purple bruising circled his eyes and crossed the bridge of his nose, making her think of men at masked balls. The bruising flowed down his neck, passed the bandaging covering the bite, down his shoulder and collar bone to the side of his chest and vanished below the sheets. He breathed heavily through parched and cracking lips.

She could not look away. She could not understand how the man was so thin for his frame. His shoulders were wide and gave the impression he should weigh several stone more than he did now. Her gaze slid down his body to where his hands lay hidden under covers, and marveled that when she last had so much time to study him he was her taciturn professor. Those elegant hands taught her to brew the potions that saved them. They were the hands of a master.

They had reached out to her in desperation.

They had not saved him.

She shook the thought off as she leaned back into the soft armchair and sighed. She could smell herself. Her skin was stiff and grimy and she knew she should have a wash and a meal. She did not care.

His feet tented the blankets at the foot of the bed. They'd been in his dragon-hide boots hours ago, trembling against a dilapidated floor as he died. She hoped the Healers had not cut his boots. The thought struck her as an odd thing to worry over.

Her cheek rested against the almost-soft fabric of the chair and she focused on the tight weave of the threads. Harry had lived and lost everything at the same time. Her parents did not know who she was. A heavy tear fell to her jumper. How would they move on now that life as they had always known it was over? Teddy Lupin's parents would be put in the ground soon, as would Collin Creevy and his camera. The small child wanting Harry's autograph flashed before her eyes and she cried out. The sound was loud, almost rude, as it echoed in the sterile room.

Hermione wiped her eyes and turned in her chair. Draco Malfoy was alive and his family whole. She was ashamed to feel that it was terribly unfair that such and undeserving lot walked out with so little a cost. It was with that last wash of guilt that her eyes fell closed and she slept.

She dreamt of rain and woke crying.

The professor was fisting the bedclothes and breathing through clenched teeth. Hermione shot to her feet, causing the chair to scrape across the stone floor. Snape's eyes flew open and locked onto her. He said nothing as she bit her lip and leaned over him. Her hand hovered above his forehead and her eyes watered.

"I'm sorry," she breathed, pulling her hand back before she touched him.

A quiet tone sounded but she did not look away. Healers filed in waving wands and shouting orders and his eyes never released her. He had never looked at her with more than a passing glance down his nose, and now he looked at her so intensely she feared her knees may give out. When his eyes closed and his back arched off the bed her trance ended and she shouted at the Healers to do something. When he cried out loud she panicked. Someone was calling her name but she could not stop screaming. Crushing guilt and fear had become too much of a burden and her self-control snapped. Strong arms enveloped her and she was pulled from the room literally kicking and screaming.

"Hermione! Hermione please!"

Ron smelled of summer and broom sticks and life and Hermione buried her face in his chest as he lifted her off the ground. His heartbeat was strong against her ear and she counted it as she slipped into unconsciousness.

s.S.s.S.s.S.s.S.s.S.s

"She'll be alright Ron," Harry said as he couched in front of his best mate, who lifted his head from his hands and nodded. He and Harry had been sitting in the Common Room for hours while Hermione slept upstairs. Harry had been unable to stay in the castle after their breakfast and Ron insisted they go find Hermione. Ginny figured their bookish friend would be with Snape. They arrived to find staff pouring into his room and Hermione screaming inconsolably. Ron had been terrified for her.

"I don't understand it is all, why Snape?" Ron asked, staring into the fire.

"She feels responsible, I suppose, and she is exhausted," Ginny answered as she came down the stairs. Harry jumped to his feet and went to her, embracing her as though she had been gone for days. Ginny sighed into his shoulder and sniffed loudly; none of the Weasleys had dry eyes these days. She ran her hand across the back of his neck and they turned to sit on the sofa. The fire was warm and the crackle of wood burning soothed the three as they sat in silence. Soon Ron's breathing was even and deep and Harry smiled. Ginny snuggled down in the crook of Harry's arm and found comfort in the feel of his tee shirt against her face. He was warm and solid and it seemed to chase away the chill deep within her bones.

"I don't know what to feel, Gin," Harry whispered into her hair. She held him closer.

s.S.s.S.s.S.s.S.s.S.s

"STOP, MERLIN STOP THIS!"

Minerva startled at his outburst and leaned over him. Her lips thinned as she reached for the flailing hand, which was slashing though the air in apparent wand movements. He jerked away from her touch and growled deep in his throat. She frowned, grasped him tightly and touched the side of his face.

"Severus, calm yourself, Severus!"

His eyes snapped open and for a moment they were wild with fear and pain, darting from one side of the room to the other. She gently turned his face so that he would look at her and waited for his pupils to contract. He searched her face and stilled, her name puffing out in a rush of breath.

"Minerva, he…there were orders…I am…"

She released her hold on him and stepped back, clasping her hands in front of her. Albus finally stopped carrying on about butterflies and she had curled up in front of the portrait of her dearest friend, listening in a tartan dressing gown to the many, many mistakes they all made. He told her of the order he had given for Severus to kill him in the end. When Albus told her the details of the night Severus came to him in tears, begging protection for Lily Potter, she threw her tea cup at the wall. Severus had loved Albus as much as he possibly could- broken and used man as he was- and Albus forced his hand. When she left her chambers in the middle of the night for Saint Mungo's her hands had been trembling.

She doubted him in the end. She had turned her back on Severus when he would have needed support the very most. Her anger at the condition of Hogwarts and the treatment of its students, coupled with the crushing pain of loosing Albus and deep fear for Harry had clouded her judgment. She had accosted him the night he was nearly struck down and then she mocked him for being a coward. She had hated him in the hours before he bled for Harry and for Lily.

"You make a very convincing Lucifer and I was fooled. I threw a cup at Albus if it helps," she said as she tilted her nose up in defiance. It was all the apology he would get from the proud woman and he could not have been more overwhelmed with gratitude for it. Severus huffed in what could have been a laugh and grimaced with pain, turning his head from her. She tisked and gave up on stature, setting herself on the side of his bed. He was shaking and stiff when she touched his arm. He would not look at her. She said nothing as she gently stroked his arm from shoulder to wrist.

Albus had said once that some times, silence does more for the soul. 


	4. Dawn

V

Hermione woke with the sun warming the red curtains of her four-poster bed. Her pillow was soft, the linens clean and the blanket comfortably weighted over her body. She took a deep breath and felt a calm in her stomach as the familiar smell of Hogwarts filled her lungs. She waved the fabric open and looked at the brilliantly blue sky. It was a beautiful morning.

She slid out from between the sheets and stretched as she stood. The floor was cold on her bare feet. She went to the window and looked over the grounds. The sunlight glittered off the lake and across the scarred grounds of the destroyed castle. Wizards in Ministry attire dotted the lawns moving debris and broken foliage. She leaned against the wall and looked away from the ground to the clouds that floated close to her altitude in the tower.

She would need to dress soon and see Ron. She doubted he would know what to make of her outburst beside professor Snape's sick bed. At least she knew where her breaking points were now that she watched a man she brought back from death suffer. Harry's moody disposition after fifth year made more sense to her now that she had seen death and touched it. She shook her thoughts off and turned her back to the window, missing a large dark owl circle the castle.

Ginny and Harry were curled up on the couch when she came down stairs. They looked so peaceful sleeping as they were, caught up in each others arms, and Hermione smiled. Harry deserved happiness. Ron was curled in his favorite chair by the fire. Her heart clenched to see Fred's picture in his hand, smiling and winking from under George's arm. She sat beside him. His chin was stubbled again as it had been in the forest when he and Harry had want of a razor. It worried her that he looked older. The lines across his freckled forehead were deeper and the circles under his eyes darker. She gently traced a lock of red hair away from his eyes and smiled at him as he stirred.

"Shhhh, come with me," she whispered.

Ron blinked and nodded as he yawned into the back of his hand. She led them past the sleeping couple and out the Fat Lady's painting to sit on the staircase outside. Ron rubbed his head and sighed as he settled down beside her. His arm was warm and solid as he slid it around her back and pulled her to his side, laying a kiss on her temple. She closed her eyes and leaned into him.

"I am so sorry I left you Ron. I just couldn't…I couldn't be here and," Ron hushed her.

"S'ok Hermione, s'ok. Harry is really glad you did what you did if it's any help."

She nodded against him and looked around the stairwell. Many of the portraits were gone from their frames to see the damage and check on friends. She found herself wishing she were in Snape's room watching him breathe.

"We have to burry Fred. Mum wants to put him beside Lupin and Tonks," Ron said looking strait ahead. Hermione started at the turn in conversation and took a moment to get her world righted before she said anything.

"How is George?"

She felt Ron shrug before he released her shoulder and stood. He had gotten taller in the last year, nearly as tall as Charlie.

"I think I need to go home for a bit, you know, help mum. Dad says she hasn't put Fred's sweater down yet."

Hermione nodded and wiped at her eyes. She supposed it would get better over time just as everyone said, but it all damn hurt right now.

"I am so sorry Ron, I am so sorry," what could she say?

Ron bit his lip and hung his head before shouting and punching the wall. She jumped and took a step back, surprised by his physical display. He sank to the ground and yelled "I was right there Hermione! I was right in front of him and I should have DONE something!"

Hermione kneeled in front of him and took his head in her hands so she could lift his face up.

"I was there, Ron, there was nothing you could do. It is not your fault he died and he would be angry with you for thinking it was. He fought in a war and he laid his life down for what he knew was right. It is not your fault," she finished in a whisper, wiping a tear from his eye with her thumb.

They both looked up when the portrait opened. Ginny covered her mouth and went to Ron, fiercely hugging her brother to her as Harry and Hermione hung back watching. They were outsiders to the family's pain. It was much like when Arthur was bitten and they hovered in quiet empathy, feeling not quite in place.

"Are you alright?" Harry whispered. Hermione almost laughed at how absurd it was for Harry Potter to be inquiring about the condition of anyone other than himself. He was selfless to the end. She smiled and hugged him gently.

"I am sorry I behaved that way Harry, I was just tired. How…how are you?"

He took her by the shoulders and looked in her eyes for a heartbeat before giving her a small smile and glancing at Ginny. They stood quietly and watched the siblings grieve in the stairwell. 

s.S.s.S.s.S.s.S.s.S.s

Healing potions seemed to bring Severus from down-right-nasty to less-than-amicable and Minerva decided she was just fine with that. He had woken nearly an hour past shouting obscenities and clawing at the air, causing no less than four well-girthed Healer Aids to restrain him so the potions could be administered. She watched him over her tea cup as he lay boneless on the bed staring at the ceiling. His awareness was questionable at best but for now he was calm and breathing. Minerva sighed and let herself go to her thoughts as she sipped at her tea.

"Professor, may I join you?"

It must have been years of students popping up around corners that kept her from dropping her cup. She sighed and nodded at Hermione Granger, who entered the room slowly with her arms tightly wrapped around her chest. She stopped at the foot of Snape's bed and worried her bottom lip between her teeth. It was a marvel what the girl had accomplished, Minerva thought, but she seemed to take every second of pain Severus felt as a strike against her humanity. The staff told her of Hermione's reaction to his waking. She was silent as she conjured another chair for her former student.

"Please sit down Hermione, he does not like to be towered over so," Minerva said gently.

Hermione fought the urge to touch the man and took the proffered seat. Professor McGonagall was quiet as she passed her tea, which Hermione took and sipped absently.

"Can he…hear us? Does he know where he is," she was almost afraid to know.

Minerva was quiet as she looked over Severus. His eyes had closed again and he appeared to be sleeping. She tried to reason with him when he woke shouting, not that Severus had ever been reasonable, but he would not quiet. It was a blessing the man did not have a wand within reach.

"I doubt he does."

Hermione gave a small nod and settled in for a long wait. He looked worse and somehow better today. He had some color which gave him less of a corpse-like appearance. His injuries however looked much worse than yesterday, the bruising had turned from deep purple to an angry red and black.

"What has Harry told you about professor Snape?"

Minerva watched Hermione over the top of her spectacles and waited as the girl gathered her thoughts. She could not believe the account Albus gave of Severus' return that fateful night so long ago. He had been a prickly, unpleasant boy in public but she had seen his potential when he was working alone. His dedication to his studies mirrored Hermione's to almost exact detail. Each essay had been longer than assigned, every potion slaved over, every transfiguration given the highest level of attention. He was brilliant from the start and they had overlooked him. No, Albus did not merely overlook the boy, he had been nothing but cruel to him.

"_He did not care for the safety of James or Harry, Minerva! I was outraged that he would move to protect an infant only for the sake of the woman he was infatuated with and not for the innocent child itself!" Albus had raged while pacing between the portrait frames. _

"_So you felt justified with your harsh words to him then? Why, Albus, would he know to care about Harry, the son of a man who tormented Severus his entire young life and married the one person Severus may have ventured to love! How is a man who was _never_ shown family or kindness to know how to be kind or protect family? I thought you had mentored him, Albus! I thought he had a reprieve from his horrid family when he came to this school but I was quite mistaken it would seem! He was bullied at home and bullied here in our school with all his close relationships functioning not on love but capital gain! Lily Evans was the only child to interact with Severus without expecting anything in return! Honestly, Albus."_

She was sorry for the explosive exchange when her temper cooled and Albus' eyes no longer twinkled. He looked old again, old and fallible.

Hermione cleared her throat.

"Harry hasn't really wanted to talk about it much yet. He told Ron and I that professor Snape had been working for Dumbledore the entire time. He mentioned that professor Snape and his mum had been friends for a while in school. He told us that he brought the prophesy to He-Voldemort and when he found out who it was about he ran to Dumbledore for help and has been working with the Order ever since," she couldn't mention his obvious love for Lily Potter. She couldn't recount how he had grabbed Harry in his dying moment and looked into her son's green eyes…so much like hers. It was too private, too personal.

"I did not know he loved her either," Minerva whispered.

Both women sat quietly together watching over the least likely member of the Order. Neither noticed his hand twitching.

s.S.s.S.s.S.s.S.s.S.s 

Harry-sodding-Potter had too large a mouth and the inability to keep his tongue when faced with guilt. When he first became aware of the woman's voices near his bedside, Severus thought he may be having some medicated hallucination. No, that was too happy an explanation for Lily's name on Granger's lips. How dare they be speaking of him, of his _feelings_ as though they could possibly have any idea of understanding?

Lily Evans was the only soul ever to walk the earth that had an understanding of his situation. She knew him as a young child, had seen the physical effects of his muggle father's temper and she had looked passed his clothes and scowl to see _him_. He could never deal with the kindness she showed him. It lowered his defenses, it made him more susceptible to Potter and his pack of dogs and he was too much of a coward to allow her to be gentle with him. What a fool it made him in the end.

"Severus? Severus open your eyes," his flinch was involuntary and obvious; he would never be left in peace now.

Minerva's tight-lipped face swam into blurry focus with the backdrop of St. Mungo's behind her. He watched her expression carefully, wary of her reaction when he was so unable to defend himself. He was ashamed at the rush of relief that flooded through him as her scowl melted and the corners of her eyes relaxed. She smiled and –to his shock—touched his face gently.

"You gave us all such a fright." He was god smacked to see her lower lip tremble as her eyes traveled over his face. She brushed a lock of his hair away from his eyes before visibly collecting herself. She was perched on the side of his bed and her shoulders sagged in a way which suggested exhaustion.

He had a sudden overwhelming urge to tell her everything. She had been remarkably tolerant of his methods as headmaster and he could tell for much of the year she had been warring with doubt of his loyalty to the Order. She had not pried and kept her questions to a minimum as she took his subtle hints to protect the students without raising the suspicions of the Death Eaters. Their last confrontation caused him more distress than he would have anticipated, feeling a marked sting at the loss of her faith.

"M-Minerva, my…a-apologies," he croaked. His throat was raw and dry as she tutted and pushed a glass of water to his lips. He would be bothered with the indignity of his position after his thirst was quenched.

s.S.s.S.s.S.s.S.s.S.s

Hermione did not know how long she had been wandering the halls of the magical hospital. Her talk with professor McGonagall had been both refreshing and disturbing. Being addressed as an adult by her Head of House was wonderful in some ways, after all that is what they had been wanting throughout their struggle with Voldemort. She knew her childhood was over and any remnants of youth had been destroyed in the last few days; bled out on the floor of the Shreaking Shack, buried with Mad-Eye Moody and the Lupin's. A nagging part of her was uncomfortably aware that she wished- in part- that professor McGonagall had spoken to her as a student again, wished she had been told that Snape's past was none of her concern and she should not worry herself with such matters.

That was no longer the case though; it hadn't been for a long time. She, Harry and Ron now understood the burdens Dumbledore had been trying to spare them and she could not blame him for his efforts. This was the hindsight of maturity she supposed, and part of her no longer bristled at the phrase 'blissful ignorance'.

"Hermione?" Neville's voice broke through her thoughts.

Her smile was immediate and genuine. There were few moments in her life when she was more proud of anyone than when he wielded the sword of his House. Neville looked tired and much older, but his posture was erect and he had a new air of quiet confidence; he looked every bit the wizard his parentage commanded.

"Neville, how are you?" she inquired with genuine interest. He said nothing as he reached out and wrapped her in a firm embrace, pulling her gently to his chest. She was startled to realize his height mirrored Ron's. He waited until she relaxed and returned the hug before slowly releasing her. It was then that her location dawned on her- Neville was here to see his parents.

"Alright, and you? How is Snape doing then?" His hands rested on her shoulders and he gave a little squeeze when he said the professor's name. When had Neville's eyes become so striking, she wondered?

"They are not sure to be honest. I am just happy he is still breathing. Professor McGonagall is with him now; I just needed to stretch my legs." He nodded and let his hands fall back to his sides. Hermione's eyes left his face when small hands wrapped around his bicep. Luna Lovegood beamed at her from Neville's arm. His larger hand cover hers and she realized for the first time with more than a little surprise that he wore a small green ring around his smallest finger- complete with a tiny radish centered in the middle.

Luna noticed Hermione's focus on his ring and smiled, "How is professor Snape, Hermione? My father suggested we bring him some Mylanzias to help with any dark forces that may be hindering him; do you think that may help?"

Hermione caught the small shrug from Neville at the suggestion of the unknown gift and stifled a laugh; it seemed some things were left blissfully unmarred by war after all. After a short conversation the new couple bid her a warm farewell with promises that she would extend their thoughts to the taciturn man who lay healing just a few floors below.

She was unaware he had woken. 


	5. Fever

They put Fred in the ground today. The funeral had been perfect in Harry's opinion, complete with a Weasley's firework display as the coffin was lowered into the earth. George said nothing until the very last moment, asking that Fred say hello to his ear for him if he saw it. Harry left the funeral and returned Hogwarts, running from the gate to the castle now that the Apparation wards had been restored. His paralyzing guilt and sadness were now replaced with rage so powerful he was able to get past the gargoyle without the password. His feelings toward Snape and Albus Dumbledore refused to sort themselves out, twisting from admiration to anger to intense sadness and disconnected indifference.

Harry paced the floor in the Headmaster's office seething with anger. His robes flared out behind him, reminding Albus of the Potions Master's prowling gate. He was curious as to why Harry had chosen to wear robes when he normally selected a more muggle fashion on his free time, but he kept his questions to himself for the moment. Harry had a weary, hardened look about him now. He had allowed the fine hairs on his chin to grow slightly. His face was sharper now that the boyish curves had firmed into muscle along his jaw. War had changed Harry Potter as it had changed so many others.

Harry stopped in front of Fawks' perch with his back to his former Headmaster's image and ran a trembling hand though his dark hair.

"You were fortunate I was so damn shell-shocked at the train station, Albus," his voice did not waver as he addressed Dumbledore by his given name for the first time, "I cannot _believe_ you didn't tell me about, about _everything_ when you dragged me along to that cave! Did you really believe that I had so much happiness left then? What was left to save of my miserable youth, and was it worth the bloody cost everyone has paid for my mistakes?"

Harry turned to face Albus with his green eyes flashing.

"Snape, I focused so much on Snape and you should have _told me he loved my mother_! I just watched him bleed because I hated him so much, I watched him slaughter you, I wasted so much time dwelling on him when I should have been focused on killing Voldemort."

His robes snapped at his ankles as he turned on his heel. The dark circles lining his eyes were testament to his newfound insomnia. Albus felt a stab of anxiety as he listened.

"You were horrid to him the night he came to you, and the night my family was attacked. You let me believe he hated me because of my father and you allowed me to believe he was evil! Every day I was near him I was salt in a wound, Albus! Now the poor bloody bastard is laid up in hospital screaming like devils!"

When a glass bauble on the desk nearest Harry exploded, he did not flinch.

"Mrs. Weasley buried a son today. George has barely spoken three words and no one looks me in the eye anymore. It will also be my happy duty to explain to Teddy why he is an orphan, why I allowed his mother and his father to die for me. Ron won't laugh or play chess, Hermione won't settle down unless she is sitting next to Snape, Denis Creevy has broken his camera."

None of this was news to Albus; Minerva had informed him of the goings on outside the castle walls since the night Tom Riddle was bested. It was unnerving to hear the words in Harry Potter's guilt drenched voice however, and not for the first time Albus wished he were not trapped in two dimensions.

"I do not have any further an explanation now than I did for you the day you laid your life down for the good of…"

Harry's anger snapped to life and he stormed out of the office, cutting off Dumbledore's words with the slam of the door.

s.S.s.S.s.S.s.S.s.S.s

His room was dark and quiet when Hermione finally returned from her walk. Professor McGonagall was no longer in the oversized armchair Hermione had been quietly coveting since the professor's arrival. It was just as well that no one else was here- she was not much in the mood for tea or conversation. She did not bother to inspect the professor before she crossed the room towards the chair, missing the subtle stirring of the man beneath the blankets.

Minerva had been at his side for hours as he slipped in and out of awareness. She needed to return to the castle and attend herself. Perhaps if he addressed her she would take her leave having seen he was not in the clutches of death.

"Do you never return to your bed, Minerva?"

Hermione nearly left her skin. His voice scratched out of his throat and she winced in empathy. He _would_ come to his senses now that she was alone with him, and wouldn't he be thrilled that he had again mistaken her for someone he remotely cared for?

"I am sorry, she left already. Would you like me to fetch her for you…or should I get the attention of a Healer?"

_Merlin and Dumbledore must be having a laugh_, Snape thought gruffly to himself. Of all the people to mistake for Minerva it had to be this horrid slip of a girl. Damn and blast if she was still here. Initially he thought of saying nothing at all, perhaps if he did not respond she would leave him in peace. Then she touched his hand and it sent a jolt of…something, through him and he remembered turning into her embrace and calling her Lily.

He pulled his hand away from her soft touch before he was aware of his own furry.

"Do not presume such liberties with me, Miss Granger! I fail to see the reason for your presence? Perhaps you sustained injury to your glorified mental faculties leading you to believe I am someone for whom you could possibly be concerned for. Have you mistaken my sickbed for the werewolf's?"

He watched her with a frustrating lack of triumph as she took a step away from him. He knew he had wounded her and fervently hoped she would go away so that he could sort out these infuriating emotions. It was unexpected when she turned her back on him and leaned on the artificial window ledge. At least the woman, no, the _girl, _was silent.

His back ached and his throat screamed for water. He slowly became more aware of his body as the effects of an analgesic potion began to fade. The sudden need to move overcame him. He pressed his palm into the soft mattress and pushed himself into a sitting position, yelling as his body erupted in white-hot agony. Pain flooded through his veins and he stifled a shout of pain with the back of his hand. The movement was involuntary and he immediately regretted doing so, as it pulled at the wound on his neck.

He felt himself listing to the side and knew he would fall as he flung his arms out to catch himself. His body was betraying him. He could not think, could not gain control of himself as his mind screamed in fear at the idea of an impact with the stone floor. When his mind registered the strong arms that wrapped across his chest the relief was almost palpable. His pain was so great that it blocked his sight, sending a shock of fear through him as he rapidly blinked his eyes. Someone was speaking to him in a decidedly male voice as cool fingers played across his forehead. His pale hands trembled as they gripped the arms holding him up and he struggled to breathe.

Hermione only had time to register that Snape was going to fall when she heard him yell. Harry seemed to materialize from thin air and moved with the skill born from his broom. She had not blinked before Harry threw his arm out and caught the professor. His outburst forgotten, she hurried to his side and swept the dark strands of his hair from his forehead. Snape was burning with fever.

"Easy! Easy professor, I've got you…breathe," Harry whispered.

Hermione raised the bed so he would be inclined when he lay back before she slid her arm behind his shoulders to help Harry support him. Her heart clenched when she realized Severus Snape was holding on to Harry in a white-knuckled grip. Harry eased the shaking man back into Hermione's embrace. She automatically sat on the bedside as she took his weight on her shoulder. Harry was calling for a Healer. She brushed Snape's hair away from his face again and watched him with growing alarm as his unfocused eyes watered and darted about the room.

Severus gasped as wave after wave of pain washed over him. Nothing existed but his agony and his fear. Something was pressed against his lips and he turned his head away with a shout as Nagini's bite seared. He breathed in short bursts as stars flashed behind his closed eyes. What was happening? He was aware of being in hospital before this torture gripped him in a vice. He was delusional, how could he be in the hands of Healers when so much pain overwhelmed him.

The Dark Mark flared to life and someone screamed as the red serpentine eyes of Voldemort loomed in the distance. Where was his wand? He moved to search his robes but found himself caught in firm restraint. He hissed through clenched teeth and struggled against the unseen force, "RELEASE ME!" he shouted with more fear laced through his voice than intended. His body trembled with agony.

Harry and Hermione startled at his outburst. He was lost in his raging fever, caught in some unknown nightmare. Without a word Harry grasped Snape's arms to his sides, enabling the Healer to administer the potion.

When his mouth was forced open his stomach turned with sick anticipation. The liquid was cool and tasteless as it slid down his throat. A cold, mirthless laughter rang out in the distance. Albus's body was sailing through the air. Lily's dead eyes stared at him in a death mask. Someone shouted '_Enervate' _and his back arched off the bed as he pulled in a lung full of air.

He startled when he felt small, cool hands prize his fingers from a fabric he did not realize he was clutching. Harry Potter's face came into blurry focus as he opened his eyes.

"Alright there, Hermione?" Potter enquired. _What could the damn boy be talking about_?

"Yes, I can't believe you caught him, Harry!

Was he…could he possibly be…it was simply inconceivable that Granger was physically supporting him. Potter was staring at him as though he had never seen him before. Severus shivered with fever as Potter spoke.

"W-what is it, P-Potter?"

"Professor Snape, I…thank you,"

The words were simple, so very simple. Potter did not look away and he could see the sincerity in the boy's face. So the fool finally understood- now that Severus had loosed his memories to him- and could look past his blind hate into the face of truth.

He could not explain the sudden, overwhelming grief that flooded through his exhausted mind. Granger tucked another wayward lock of hair behind his ear and he could not help sinking into her embrace. She was soft and warm and he suddenly craved the contact. He said nothing in response to Potter's newfound gratitude.

"I've also been asked to send a message, and I swear it's only for your benefit that I deliver it. Malfoy sent me an owl yesterday. He and his family are under house arrest by the Ministry so he can't come tell you himself. He wished me to 'extend his gratitude' to you."

It seemed war had finally imbued Potter with an iota of maturity- the boy was able to spit out his enemy's name with nary a flinch. Later he supposed it would be entertaining that Draco had chosen Potter to deliver such a message. He watched as Potter turned to leave, somewhat taken aback by the flaring robes the boy was wearing. Granger did not move as they were left alone, only her breathing reminded him of her presence.

He licked his cracked lips before he asked the question he was afraid to have answered.

"It would seem," he paused as his stomach fluttered, "I was told that I owe you my life," he finished lamely. _Still a coward Severus_, his mind whispered in the ensuing silence. When he was sure she would not answer he closed his eyes, letting shame and hopelessness settle back into their familiar places. Decades had passed since he felt such a burning need for the understanding and validation of another living person and he was disgusted with himself. What's more, he was allowing this moment of self-indulgence with Hermione Granger. He did not expect her response.

"You owe me nothing," he shivered as she whispered against his hair.

"How could I not help… he just left you to die," her voice was ice in the desert.

She shifted behind him and he could hear her heart beating-strong and full of life. His hand shook as he brought it to his sweat-soaked brow. Flashes of memory haunted him as he struggled against his fever.

_His stomach turned as he felt the sticky warmth of blood pouring from his neck. A loud crack sounded as his knees failed him and he hit the ground. Even as his body fought against the darkness he remembered the way light played across Lily's hair in the morning. Her son needed to know he had to lay down his life for the sake of the world, that he was a vessel for this creature's continued existence. _

"I am so, so very sorry that we did not pay more attention to…everything. I did not know about…about Harry's mum before," Hermione took a deep breath and he was drawn back to the present. "It is amazing how much we did not know. We should have listened closer to what you were saying. You were the most informed; you had…have…all the knowledge and skills to do exactly what you did, selflessly. People have hated you for so long, you have been alone for so long, trying to atone for a wrong you did not fully commit."

_He could not breathe, it was simply impossible that he had been such a fool. The Dark Lord stood in the center of his followers with a glee Severus had not heard in his voice for many years. He believed the infant in Trelawney's prophecy to be the child born to Lily. His ignorance was limitless. His heart raced as he turned the information over and over in his mind. By the time the group was released, each with their own task for preparing the attack, Severus knew he must see Dumbledore. Azkaban was infinitely preferable to the loss of her life. _

He closed his eyes against the memories. Her acknowledgement of his suffering stirred something deep within him that he thought long dead. They were quiet together, listening to the muffled sounds of activity beyond the door of his room. Her presence was calming.

"I know none of your past is my business professor Snape. Please know that I would never do anything to harm or insult you knowingly. I am aware that I have never been anything more than an irritating presence in your classroom, I would never presume to call you a friend, but that does not change the fact that you have been suffering for more years than I can remember living."

_His lungs burned with the fire of a thousand suns. Draco was just ahead and Albus' body was just behind. Potter was screaming at him to stand and fight, Hagrid's hut was burning to the ground and taking that great beast of a hound with it. If only he could stop and let Potter have done with it, he would gladly join Albus and Lily in the calm dark of the hereafter. It had taken every ounce of control to strike the old man down and the rage he harnessed to do so continued to course through his veins. _

"Do not be a fool Miss Granger…" he whispered into the growing dark of the room, "you hold no martyr in your arms this night."

Hermione closed her eyes and thought of Harry. Both of these men were so alike in their own self-denial. Life had been so shockingly heavy-handed with them and they could not see their astounding acts of bravery for what they were. She wondered what evils Severus Snape had been subjected to in his short life. The myriad of scars across his chest were not lost on her when he was exposed to the Healers in the first hours of his hospital stay. She wondered if the streaks of silver amongst the pitch-black locks of his hair were present before the near-fatal blow. He looked far older than his actual years. His breathing evened to the quiet rhythm of sleep.

Her eyes were heavy though Hypnos refused to visit her. Her thoughts wandered back to past years at Hogwarts when life was so much simpler. The annual thwarting of attack on Harry seemed far more manageable than the guilt that crushed everyone she loved. She was reminded of Snape's teaching of the Dark Arts.

"_The Dark Lord, for instance, almost always knows when somebody is lying to him. Only those skilled at Occlumency are able to shut down those feelings and memories that contradict the lie, and to utter falsehoods in his presence without detection."*_

His dark-velvet voice had always enthralled her. Despite her irritation for his abrasive temperament, his fluid movements and calm delivery of lectures captivated her since she was a small girl. Watching the man create a potion or wield a wand was a sight to behold. Only watching Dumbledore perform as the powerful wizard he was rivaled the marvel and admiration she experienced when watching Snape work.

"Albus,"

The name was scarcely louder than a breath. He twitched against her in his sleep.

"Do not ask this…do not…Albus no, NO!" his voice went from soft whisper to shouting. She suddenly realized how damp her shoulder felt. She could not see him properly in the dim light at this hour and briefly thought of illuminating her wand. His breathing became labored between incoherent words. She wrapped the arm supporting him around his chest and brought her other across his forehead. His leg thrashed under the sheet and she found herself whispering comfort against the top of his head as she stroked his soaked hair back.

"You are dreaming…shhhhh…it's only a dream, it's alright," how absurd that she would be comforting Severus Snape's fever dreams.

He groaned through clenched teeth and shouted something unintelligible. Not for the first time, she wondered if pulling him back from death had been the kindest thing to do.

"Hermione?"

Minerva had been unable to sleep as well. She had been up speaking with Albus and Severus inevitably came up in conversation; when Albus made a fond comment on the wizard's chronic insomnia she knew she should return to sit with him. Her hair was loose from its typically strict bun and she wore her tartan gown tightly knotted about her thin waist. St. Mungo's was calm and dimly lit at this late hour and her walk through its halls was somber and quiet. She leaned heavily on her cane when she reached Severus' doorway and gently pushed the door open. The thin beam of candlelight from the halls spilled over his sick bed, illuminating the unexpected pair.

"Professor McGonagall, I can't wake him,"

Minerva approached his bedside, looking over him with growing alarm.

"Severus, wake up Severus," she called to him. Another shout of anguish tore from his throat and he thrashed against Hermione so intensely she pulled her arm out from behind him for fear of him injuring himself further on the bones of her shoulder. The movement caused him distress and his hand shot out from where it lay at his side, his deft fingers catching her sleeve. Hermione watched his stark-white face in the sliver of light and her heart froze in her chest as he turned terrified, wild eyes on her.

She nearly fainted when his mouth gaped open and he screamed, "RUN!"

_Author's notes: The paragraph marked with an asterisk is a direct quote from JK Rowling's Harry Potter books and not my own work. _

_Thank you so much for your reviews, they do push me to work on this more. I can't tell you how much I appreciate the feedback._


	6. The Fallen

Kingsley was comfortable in his bed, dreaming of less troubled times, when his fire roared to life. He swore as he bolted from his bed and answered the emergency call. A young Auror appeared in the flames.

"There is a situation at Saint Mungo's, Minister."

Kingsley nodded and the face vanished from his rooms. He quickly donned his robes and paused before stepping into the floo. One deep breath later and he spoke his destination into the green flames.

When he stopped whirling through the network the same Auror stood waiting to fill him in on the situation.

"Terribly sorry to wake you in the middle of the night, but it's Snape, Sir. You gave orders to contact you immediately should anything come up." Kingsley was silent as he strode beside the young wizard through the empty corridors.

"He has been lucid for the first time worth mentioning today during a visit from Minerva McGonagall. She states that after an hour she left him asleep. Sometime after this a Miss Hermione Granger came to sit with him and he became quite delirious."

The men entered the lift and as the door shut Kingsley's patience wore thin.

"I did not wish to be woken from a rare few hours of sleep to be given a medical update on the man, do skip to the current situation."

The young man nodded with nervous energy.

"We do not know the cause, but he has a woman at wand-point."

When the lift doors opened the automated voice informing them of their current level added a surreal element to the scene before Kingsley. Two Aurors crouched behind overturned chairs in the hallway leading to Snape's room with Minerva close behind. The Minister drew his wand and cast a protective charm as he stepped out of the lift and moved beside Minerva.

"What happened," he inquired as he took a knee behind the barrier. Both Aurors had their wands trained on the door of his room. Minerva turned her pale, worried face to Kingsley with obvious relief that her trusted ally had arrived. Before she could speak a haunted, cold voice rasped out from the dark hospital room.

"End this… end this… cannot… stop…" the words came with obvious effort and made the hairs stand up on Kingsley's arms. The strange voice that was not and somehow was that of Severus Snape's erupted from the room before he could gather his thoughts.

"BE READY!"

Hysteria was never an element to Snape's speech pattern, so when the command rang out with such desperate emphasis Kingsley stood above the barrier waiting for Snape to make a move, knowing he was trying to give some signal. The two Aurors directly ahead also stood with their wands ready. The door to Snape's room creaked open and Hermione Granger stepped sideways over the threshold with a wand pressed deep into the skin of her throat and tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Don't hurt him!" She shouted before the wand thrust painfully into her throat as warning.

Snape towered over her and pushed her out the door by the scruff of her robes. He wore only hospital trousers. Kingsley wondered how it was possible for the man to be standing as he took in the sight of Snape's stark white skin mottled with the livid bruising that cascaded down from his neck and shoulder to wrap down across his chest and side. Silver lines of scars interrupted the red and purple creating a macabre stain-glass effect. As his eyes followed the impossible sight Kingsley noticed that thick, dark blood was steadily dripping from Snape's left elbow.

"Severus, drop your wand," Kingsley instructed calmly.

Hermione stood as still as possible with the wood of her own wand digging into the tender flesh under her jaw. Snape was shaking; she could feel the movements from both the arm that dragged at the scruff of her neck and the arm holding her wand.

"Severus, think of what is actually happening! You are in hospital, you are safe!" Minerva said as she watched the man visibly loosing strength.

Hermione clenched her eyes shut and took a gamble with the knowledge that he was weakening by the second. Slowly she extended her left hand until she reached his forearm and very gently wrapped her fingers around his wrist, making no move to push him away, only to remind him of who she was.

Her movement made him growl deep in his throat and he barred his teeth as he yelled and shoved her away from him so hard that she hit the opposing wall. In the same fluid motion he flung his arms out exposing his chest.

"STRIKE," he shouted.

The desperation in the command sent several bells of warning off in Kingsley's mind just as his eyes settled on Severus' Dark Mark, which was openly visible from his current stance. The normal sickly-green outline of the mark was replaced with gaping wounds that bled so freely they obscured the bottom right side of the image. Kingsley's eyes darted from the mark to Severus' eyes and he knew.

"_Incarcerous!_" Kingsley shouted before his Aurors made their move.

Time seemed to slow: Minerva reached for Severus as he fell though she was too distant to reach him. The Aurors released stunning spells a fraction behind the Minister's and the streaks of light skimmed just above Snape as he fell. Hermione lunged for Snape as his knees gave way and the ropes bound his arms to his body. She could not have made it to him in time.

His shoulder was first to slam into the stone floor, followed by his head which produced a nauseating crack. The pain was blinding and took away most of the sensation of the rest of his body as he completed his decent. The ringing in his ears blurred out the commotion of the hallway. He was aware of Granger's wand clattering on the floor beside him. His chest heaved with the effort of breathing.

Kingsley stepped over the toppled chairs and around the Aurors, "One remain where you are, the other fetch a Healer. Minerva will you please join me," he directed in full, rich tones. Miss Granger was gathering Snape into her arms, resting his now-bleeding head on her lap. He took a knee beside Snape and, with Minerva following suit began to pass his wand over the battered man.

"The Mark is the source, Minister."

Minerva's wand hovered over Snape's left arm and glowed yellow. Kingsley whispered an incantation over the damaged extremity and a bright orange chain of light wound itself from the wounds to his head, wrapping across his forehead and pulsing. The Minister swore quietly.

"Kingsley… strike … end this," Severus whispered. A thin trail of blood slipped from the corner of his mouth as he spoke.

"Minerva we need Bill Weasley, now."

She was on her feet and moving with her cane faster than anyone could have expected. When the lift door closed behind her Kingsley turned his attention back to the man on the floor.

Hermione watched the pulsing light with wide eyes. It simply was not possible that this was happening. She had read the theory of Late Possession in many of the tomes she searched when looking for information on the power and destruction of the Horcrux, but never before had a case been documented. She supposed Voldemort may have possessed both the skill and the self indulgent nature to bring the practice from theory to reality but honestly, could it be more unjust for this man?

He tried to warn her and she had disregarded that warning as fevered delusions. She had watched in dumb shock as he rose from his bed and came to his feet, taking steps like a marionette. His movement had been surreal. She should have put the pieces together when the Mark burst open in tattered strips of flesh and her wand was torn from her robes with nary a word spoken. Minerva had been blown back from the doorway where she stood. He was in no condition to fight off an _imperio_ and this curse was much more powerful.

She hated the ropes that bound him, hated the cold stone floor his battered body lay against. He could not be released until the curse was broken, nor could his wounds be healed. What effort must he have exerted to protect her from himself? The Minister was speaking to him now with a soft, calm voice as he lay shaking on the floor.

"Severus I will not strike. We know what curse grips you and we will remedy it if you will just hold on a little while longer. I know you must be tired my friend and you have done well in mastering this affliction. You cannot harm anyone now."

The demons were drowning out Kingsley's voice. Granger's lap was soft and comforting but the constant screaming in the deepest recesses of Snape's mind called for her demise. His body rebelled against the bindings. He was so close to the Minister, so very close and he knew he should kill the man at any cost. He knew these thoughts were madness and he fought against them. Granger's fingers were cool on his brow and he wanted to hurt her. He wanted to render her in agony for the crimes she committed against the Dark Lord.

He loathed the Dark Lord.

He was sinking into madness, the same insanity that empowered him to strike Albus down in his weakest hour. Madness that he had run from his entire life, which stole his closest friend and only love from him, now gripped his soul and his mind. His body would not listen to him, it only obeyed this crazed beast that bit at his heels and caused him untold pain. This madness brought Lily to a cold grave.

"K…Kingsley," Severus' voice failed as pain washed over his body again, the memories bringing a stab of guilt to his heart, "release me…I cannot bear this any longer," he finished in a whisper, shamed that he was begging for help. He knows the feeling of Granger's fingers in his hair is a comfort, something he will keep hidden from all others, but this overpowering curse, this affliction that tore his flesh and his mind tells him that she should be dead. Her every breath is his failure. The wound on his neck begins to bleed for the first time in days. Someone presses a cloth to his neck and he wants to harm them. He cannot stand to be within his own mind any longer, what Kingsley asks is too much.

"Finish this… there is nothing… to wait for," he cannot recognize his own voice for the harsh rasping and pain laced tones. Breathing has become nearly intolerable for the pain of it. Another voice joined the cacophony surrounding him. He recognized the Healer and when the man reached for him with his wand Severus pulled away.

"No more, NO!" his plea became a shout. He was trembling from the effort of fighting the curse and the pain that no longer washed over him, but flooded his every nerve ending. He was a fool for allowing Albus to send him back to the living. Death was all he longed for now. He was so tired. The pain weakened his ability to focus and he did not take notice of the hot tracks the tears were making across his temples.

He remembers the feel of the Death mask. The many people he watched wreathing in agony at the end of his comrades wand taught him to hide his emotions while anonymous. He remembers the weight of it as he falls to the wet ground screaming in agony as the snake slithers from the skull on his skin. He remembers the feeling of his nose crunching against the ceramic weight of it as Voldemort punished him in the throes of an Unforgivable; the sound was both muffled and amplified as he wreathed in mind-blistering pain on the ground.

The curse wrapped itself tighter around his mind and he could feel it breeching the great walls of decades old Occlumancy. How could the bastard be so much stronger in his death? Severus is dying. Not his body but his mind, his will is bending to the pulsing orange glow that grips him.

"Headmaster," a woman inquires. Riddle's mother gave him life before she embraced death and left him to the wolves, or so Riddle always claimed. Severus always thought Voldemort's self-pity was his greatest weakness. Severus had not one happy memory from his youth that did not involve Lily Evans, and even those were sullied now. She had come to his aide as no one else had and he called her the most hurtful of names. He loved her and his pride won over. This was exactly why he was irrevocably broken. Granger seemed to invest something in him and he would crush her in the end. He would one day look upon her lifeless eyes and carry the weight of guilt for eternity. No, he would not let another get as close… Albus had been close and he killed him in the end as well.

The Healer's charms tingled as they played across his cursed body. Even in death Tom Riddle had him in a vice. Severus tried to hold on to Hermione's voice and the small remnants of his self-worth as the curse screamed at him to kill her.

Hermione desperately wanted Professor Snape released from the terrible ropes that constricted his chest and his breathing. Surely he can not pose a threat with his strength so waning that he nears begging for release.

"We have to release him," she whispered.

Snape's eyes snapped to hers and his body shuddered as she felt a nudging at the borders of her mind. Harry had explained this sensation as a battering ram at your door but to her it was scarcely more than a butterfly flitting to-and-fro at the entrance to her thoughts. She was not sure how to let him in but made a mental effort to open herself.

This was apparently enough and a whirlwind of sound and pain came spilling into her mind. She was no longer able to focus on what her eyes were seeing, completely engulfed in the typhoon of memory, feeling and sound. His voice came to her like a falling man grappling for handholds.

"_Do not release me, I will harm you. There is a curse that I cannot withstand much longer. Miss Granger, do not let the Healer touch me, allow a hated man his release into death, I am so very tired._"

His voice slid away before the onslaught of images rushed past. Hermione tried to hold onto some of the memories that swirled through her mind just as the glimpse of fireplaces flitted past in the floo. The streaking colors of green and black would pause for a fraction of a moment.

A young boy is struck to the floor by a tall, dark man.

Intense fear as Lucius Malfoy whispers in a boy's ear and slides his cane up the boy's robes.

Harry's mum disappearing through the Fat Lady's portrait leaving a dark boy curling in on himself.

"_ENOUGH!_"

The link was broken and his rapid withdrawal made her head pound in agony. When her vision finally cleared and she came to her senses she could feel Snape pressing against her in a vain attempt to escape the Healers work.

"Stop," Hermione shouted as she grabbed the Healers arm. Severus' chest heaved in the shocked silence and she could hear the air bubbling in his lungs. Was it the curse that made him long for death? If his desire was borne from sound mind then he had every right to refuse care. How could she explain that the Headmaster had just spoken through Legilimency?

She realized that the Headmaster was looking at her with wild, pain sharpened eyes. He was trembling again, not as he had in the Shack but it was more than noticeable. Blood formed a slowly-growing pool under his left shoulder. All eyes were on her and in that moment she made an uncharacteristic snap decision.

With a terrible crack Severus Snape and Hermione Granger were gone from the corridor.

s.S.s.S.s.S.s.S.s.S.s

_Authors Notes: I am sorry I have been so long in posting. I am not giving up on this one guys, and your responses always push me to get butt-in-gear and write this thing._


	7. The Plan Breaks

She had lost her mind. She was going to Azkaban when they found her and that would be the end of it. The side-along Apperation had exhausted her so much that she fell to the floor beside her bleeding captive.

The ticking of an office clock and professor Snape's labored breathing were the only sounds that interrupted the silence. Hermione took a deep breath and pushed herself up; she needed to focus right away if she was going to help this man at all.

He lay flat on his back with his eyes shut tight, his fists knotted the cloth of his trousers and the muscles of his thin arms strained against the ropes that bound him. She glanced at the window and let out a small sigh of relief when she found the sky dark. The office would be empty for a few more hours at least.

"Sir, can you hear me?"

When he did not answer she grew concerned, taking a knee beside him.

"Please open your eyes if you can hear me," she asked softly, longing to touch him.

The lines around his eyes relaxed slightly and reveled a flash of white and iris.

"I am going to move you into this chair so that you are more comfortable. We are in my parent's dental office in London. The doctors who took over their practice will not be in until the morning."

Severus could not quite grasp what had just occurred. It was simply inconceivable that Granger would take him to a private location after he warned her of his very real and nearly uncontrollable desire to harm her. If the damn pain would release him for but a _moment_ he could think clearly. His body tingled as she levitated him from the ground to an oddly reclined chair. It would shock no one that he had never entered a dental office in all his years.

Thought ran from his mind like water through a sieve as the searing agony swelled to a paralyzing crescendo. He could not cry out for his lungs had seized and he could not thrash as the ropes bound him tighter still. Granger was speaking to him, she sounded panicked. He needed to hear what she was saying but the blood was pounding so loudly in his ears. She only spoke so quickly when she was justifying a wrong-doing to herself.

He did not feel the sting of the needle entering his vein. He did, however, notice the tingling warmth that spread from his arm to his heart and up the back of his neck. The relief was so rapid and so unexpected that he sobbed in relief. His bones seemed to melt into his muscles and he sank into the gentle embrace of the chair.

"Severus! Please, please open your eyes!" Hermione cried desperately as she dropped the syringe on a tray. She had been calling him by his formal titles and nothing seemed to pull him to attention. His given name felt foreign on her tongue. His breathing slowed.

"Gra-ger, wha've you done," he slurred. The pain had moved into the background- along with his ability to speak properly it would seem.

"I had to give you something for the pain," she explained as she bustled about with bandaging the wounds on his neck.

Severus closed his eyes and floated on whatever medication laced his blood. His body felt oddly detached from his head and -were it not for his inability to think straight- could be quite enjoyable. He felt a small hand slide into his.

"Please leave this alone for a few minutes, alright? I am just going to the other side of the room to check some numbers," Granger said with obviously forced calm. He looked down at his hand and cocked his head to the side in wonder at the fabric bandage emitting a red light. A white wire trailed up his forearm and vanished beyond his peripheral vision to the tray beside his chair. He thought of turning his head, but the effort seemed laughable and this medication created such a warm haze to lie in. Sleep called to him softly and he gladly fell into the arms of Morpheus.

Hermione drummed her fingers as the office computer ran through its boot cycle. Her parents would be horrified to see her becoming a web-informed pseudo-doctor, but that was exactly what she had to do right now. Had it not been for the PDR she would have second guessed the dose of Codeine she administered. It was truly insane to use a narcotic on a man with magical snake venom in his system without medical training, but the rules had long flown out the window. She glanced at the pulse-ox as the webpage loaded and wished she could understand the numbers better. His pulse seemed alright at 82 beats per minute but the saturation level was lost on her at 96%.

The page finally loaded, showing her that while his O2 sats were not ideal, they were acceptable and she could breathe easy for a while. She scrubbed her hands over her eyes and took a deep breath. They could not stay here much longer, but where to go? Bill would be no help to them; this was not a curse he could break. She had no dwelling of her own to take him to and there was simply no way they could go to his home, had he one at all.

The sky outside was graying and her window of time was closing. There was nothing else for it; they would have to stay in a muggle hotel. How absurd, she thought to herself as she lifted the receiver to ring the local hotel. After requesting a corner room farthest from the lift and demanding that they check her in via phone, Hermione ended the call and set to collecting (it could not possibly be stealing, everything would be replaced as soon as possible) everything she could think they might need for his care.

s.S.s.S.s.S.s.S.s.S.s

Kingsley sat at his desk with the bridge of his nose pinched between thumb and pointer. Hermione and Snape had been missing nearly 72 hours and it was becoming very, very difficult to keep this from becoming public knowledge. His meeting with Harry prior to the hero's first interview post-war was tiring; the boy was decidedly not a boy any longer. He shared the memories Snape had bleed out under oath that none of the information would leave the office without Snape's consent. How in the bloody hell Potter expected him to pardon Snape, not just pardon but _award_ him, without making the intricate details of the last two decades known to all was a mystery. Harry made it quite clear that he felt with the honor of being Minister for Magic carried the responsibility of making such things possible.

Now Snape had gone mad with Granger alongside him. They were off the map, unable to be followed. It was no surprise really; Snape and Hermione were two of the sharpest minds in Wizarding Britain. Snape was more stubborn than the definition of the word allowed, and Granger was formidable when she had a cause she believed in. A knock at the door shook him from his thoughts.

"Come in," he said with a sigh.

Bill Weasley glided through the doorway and took the first chair in front of Kingsley's remarkably modest desk for his title. Kingsley looked into his tired eyes and waited for the man to speak first. He ignored the twinge of emotion as he remembered this was a tactic Severus himself instilled in him.

"It is nothing I can help with, Minister. Late Possession is a thing of legend, a myth. I have read every text I can find on the phenomenon and cannot imagine a situation where I would be more unable to assist."

Kingsley was silent as he absorbed the news. He dragged a finger across his lower lip when Bill sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Kingsley, are you certain that he is acting against his own will? If you believe he could fool Voldemort, then why not all of us?"

The Minister was glad for a question he could finally answer.

"I am certain that he is dedicated to the Order. Well, perhaps not the Order itself but what it stands for. Have you, Bill, ever found Severus Snape to be a man of hope? His odds are long at best that he will remain out of prison and longer still that anyone would embrace him as a hero. He offered himself for slaughter when his affliction took hold. If the man were suicidal he would have been long dead."

Bill gave a slight nod and a sigh. Between calming his mother, mourning his younger brother and watching George waste away he could not feel any more spent. Fleur was amazing as always, rising to the occasion when needed. She was at the Burrow even now, cooking and cleaning and fussing about Mum.

"If it is Late Possession, we have to find them. He will tear Hermione to shreds. She is already weak as it is, Kingsley. Did you know she was tortured at the Malfoy Mansion?"

Kingsley had caught wind of the incident. It was minor when compared to the teetering stack of incidents he had to deal with, piled high upon his desk. They were all weak, they were all exhausted.

"Have you ever known Mr. Potter to fail at anything he sets his mind to? They will be found," Kingsley answered as Bill rose to leave, giving a soft chuckle just before the door snicked closed behind him.

s.S.s.S.s.S.s.S.s.S.s

Keeping him sedated was far from solving the problem, and the sedative was running low. Hermione sighed and closed the tome she had poured over the last four hours. Every book in her bag was worthless for the information she so desperately needed. Her eyes burned and she dug the heels of her hands into them.

She nearly died when the alarm clock sounded. She twirled towards the noise and her chair went flying.

Snape was awake now, staring at her with raised brow. She lowered her wand and covered her face with her free hand.

"Sorry, bit jumpy. How are you feeling?"

The brow lowered as he looked away. His bandages would need changing again she noted as his neck exposed itself. He wore not but black fleece trousers and (presumably) the same pants from St. Mungos. She could not stand to leave him bound when they arrived in the room that first day, so she set a magical ward around the bed that restricted him so that he could sit up comfortably and lay down, but he could not get completely up without her. It had yet to bother him, as he was only awake for twenty or so minutes at a time.

"How long have we been here, Granger?"

She winced at the roughness of his voice.

"Three days now, Sir. Are you hungry? Can I get you anything?"

He turned then to look at her with glassy eyes.

"What is it that you intend to do here, Granger? Are you at last rejecting the knowledge of all the books you read? Death is the only cure for this affliction and you damn well know it by now!" His shout turned to forceful coughing. She wanted to touch him but thought better of it. Instead she conjured a glass of water and brought it to him, waiting at his side until his breathing eased. He waved the glass away and struggled to push himself up. His hair fell forward in sheets and obstructed his face from her as he sat. She looked at his pale hands trembling on his lap and reached for him.

"Get BACK you foolish…" he growled as he pulled away from her, hissing with pain and anger.

Hermione lost her footing as she backed away and hit the night table beside the bed. She yelped and turned away, making for the loo as quickly as possible. When the door slammed shut behind her she closed her eyes and tipped her head back, breathing deep. What in Merlin's arse had she been thinking? Lack of sleep and proper meals was making her sloppy, which put them both in danger. The man was cursed to rend her limb from limb and she tried to fluff his pillows.

She remembered when she was the one talking others out of imbecilic ideas like this, how funny she could not apply that logic to her own situation.

Guilt overwhelmed her, smothering her composure. She was helpless to the tears that spilled down her cheeks as she slid down the door. The ground was cool beneath her as she wrapped her arms around her stomach. The first sob was so deep it physically hurt to loose; the ones that followed left her dizzy and light headed. What had she done?

oOo

_Author's Notes: Okay you guys, I am very sorry that it took MONTHS to get this to you. RL got in the way big time. I still promise not to abandon this one, I just don't know how long it will take me to finish. I am so happy to get reviews from you all even after so long, thank you so much for your support! I am very glad you are enjoying the story_.


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